Stolen Moments
by Lucinda
Summary: When he was young and rebellious, Rupert Giles had an affair with a memorable woman... Crossover with Highlander: the series.
1. Stolen Moments

Author: Lucinda

rating: pg 13

main characters: Rupert 'Ripper' Giles, Amanda

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (creation of Joss Whedon & a whole lot of other people who aren't me), and no legal rights to Amanda from the Highlander series (property of other people who aren't me).

distribution: Jinni's Quickfics, Paula, anyone else please ask.

notes: response to Jinni's Weekly Poetry Challenge (week 3, Poetry Quote below). Majority is a flashback to the youth of Giles, Sunnydale bits are at the end of the summer after season 3.

"SHE walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

She walks in beauty, Byron

He could hear them talking before they even knocked on the door. Buffy, Willow and Xander... the children that had adopted him, entirely to his surprise. When he'd first come to Sunnydale, he'd only expected to have special significance to his Slayer, not to become a father to her, as well as two other teenagers.

"You shouldn't just barge into his house, that's all. I mean, it's a privacy issue, and what if he has company?" Willow sounded nervous about something.

"Will-ow! Come on, this is Giles we're talking about. He doesn't date. It's like... against the Watcher rules or something." Buffy sounded as if she couldn't fathom the idea of him in any sort of social situation.

"Hey, there was Miss Calendar. They were definitely dating. And didn't he and your mom...?" Xander might have been teasing Buffy.

"For the love of... twinkies, don't ever bring that up again. I'm trying to repress." He could imagine Buffy shuddering.

There was a brief thump against his door before it swung open, revealing the smiling faces of his children. Almost in unison, they called out "Morning, Giles!"

"Good morning to all of you." He smiled, lifting his cup of tea. "Should I ask what brings you here today?"

"Mom said that if I didn't stop driving her crazy, she'd make me clean the garage." Buffy shrugged, dropping into the chair.

Xander sort of shifted his weight, looking awkward. "Will's parents aren't home, and mine... are."

"Hmmm... so instead of going to the beach, or on a picnic, you came here?" He wasn't certain if he should be flattered or exasperated. "In that case, why don't we go through a couple of these books, just to see if anything sounds like something to watch out for over the summer?"

After a few mutters and unconvincing groans, everybody settled into research. The house was filled with only the sounds of turning pages, punctuated with the occasional 'ewww' or 'didn't we kill one of those?'

Eventually, Rupert Giles placed the book on the table, and retreated to the kitchen, feeling the need to look at something that wasn't rows of ink and the occasional diagram. Another cup of tea would be a wonderful excuse.

"Giles?" Xander's voice was low, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Turning, he could see the unhappiness in the boy's dark eyes, in the slight droop of his shoulders. "What's troubling you?"

"Do you think… I mean, at least Cordelia was talking to me again, before she left Sunnydale. But… Am I ever going to find someone? Someone that will… well, someone that I can be with?" Xander looked uncertain, as if he wasn't quite certain that he wanted to talk to Giles about this, and wasn't quite certain that he wanted the answers.

"Ahhh. Matters of the heart." Rupert sighed, pouring the water over the tea bag, shaking his head at the American concept of proper tea. "I wish that I could give you a simple answer for that one. What I can tell you is this: while you live, there is the possibility. And when it comes, you can either seize hold and try to enjoy what you have while it lasts, or step back and spend the rest of your life wondering about what could have been."

"ummm… We sort of live over the mouth of hell, here. What if I find someone and she… well, dies?" Xander's voice had gone soft and sad, filled with sorrow.

"First of all, tragedy is not limited to the Hellmouth." He reached out, resting his hand on Xander's shoulder. "And secondly, that's why you should make every moment enjoyable."

"Thanks. I mean, it's not the… well, just thanks. For the vote of encouragement." With a small smile, Xander made his way back to the front of the house, leaving Rupert alone with his thoughts.

Speaking almost to himself, or perhaps to his memories, he looked at his hands, his eyes tracing over the scars that crossed his fingers, his knuckles, and the few over the back of his hand. "Build memories, because sometimes, those are all you have left."

He could still remember everything so clearly. His father had sent him away to college, away from all of his friends and family. Away, to a place filled with strangers, and rules set down decades ago by stuffy people listening to centuries old traditions. He was supposed to study Medieval history and languages at Oxford, and also study demonology and a bit of magic with the Watcher's Council, and maintain high grades through the whole time. After all, he was a Giles, his future was already set.

Naturally, he'd hated it. Not that some of the classes weren't interesting, but… All of the rules and plans made for his future by everybody but him had felt smothering. He'd tried to rebel, learning to play a guitar and performing in smoke filled little clubs. He'd met Ethan Rayne, and they'd dabbled in Chaos and vandalism.

It was during that phase of his life that he'd met Amanda. She'd been at one of the clubs that he'd played at, laughing as some half drunken prat had tried to convince her to go home with him for a 'nice tumble'. Looking at her long legs in this pair of low slung leather pants and that little blue top, he could understand the guy's interest.

Not that he'd expected what had happened next in the slightest. His set had just ended, and he'd stepped off the stage, placing the guitar on a table and debating what to drink when she was suddenly there, one arm behind his shoulders, the other hand cupping his cheek as if he was her darling. Her leg had slid up and around his, leaving her practically draped on him in a fascinating and damn near indecent manner. When she kissed him, her tongue slipping between his lips, he'd kissed right back, one hand sliding down over her hip.

The kiss broke, and she whispered in his ear "Help me avoid the drunken letch? All you need to do is play along."

Considering the way she'd pressed her body against his, there was no way in the world that he would have refused. He could feel her heartbeat see the way she was breathing a little faster after the kiss. "I missed you too, luv."

Her hand slid down his chest, leaving him incredibly aware of her touch, of the scent of her perfume, of the way she was pressing against him… The woman had to notice just how much she was affecting him. Licking her lips, she spoke in this incredibly tempting voice "Didn't you promise to take me out for a walk tonight?"

"How could I forget?" He wished for a moment that he knew her name, but asking right now would ruin everything. "Why don't we go for that walk now?"

They'd left the bar, his desire for a drink forgotten, replaced by desire for her. Walking along the street, he leaned a bit closer, and whispered in her ear "Just who am I saving?"

Spinning around so that she nearly collapsed into his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss, the two of them no doubt looking like playful young lovers out for a stroll. Her lips were almost touching his as she whispered "I'm Amanda."

"I'm Ripper." He'd smiled back, and leaned just a little forward, kissing her and hoping that he wasn't pushing his luck too far.

Actually, her reaction then and later that night proved that he hadn't come anywhere close to pushing too far. She convinced him to walk her home, and a soft offer of a nightcap had led to other offers… He had no idea where she'd learned most of the things that she knew about passion, but dear God, he wanted to be her most devoted student.

They'd slipped into a passionate affair without either of them discussing the future. Nothing more than a week or so ahead of time, just savoring the moment and shagging like rabbits. It was intense, it was wonderful… She was teaching him how to pick locks. Teaching him how to spot a forgery or a copy of an art work.

She probably would have lured him into a life of crime, teaching him to be a master thief like herself if not for that miserable vampire. They'd been walking out of a club, laughing and eager to get back to her flat. And then, this huge figure had stepped from an alley, grabbing Amanda and sinking fangs into her neck. After a few hideously loud swallows, he snapped her neck, dropping her body to the ground like a discarded apple core.

He thought that he'd screamed, shouted some sort of insult or curse. He had lunged forward, his fists flailing at the vampire, not really damaging him, but the surprise and accuracy keeping him off balance. The sight of a broken bar stool, thrown out into the alley had been just what he'd needed. It had to have been half luck, or pure outraged fury that had let him impale the vampire on it.

He'd sat there, sobbing over Amanda's limp form as the police had arrived. They'd led him away, asking a few questions as an ambulance came and quietly took her away, all covered up on a stretcher. She would have hated that, hated having her face covered…

Either they believed his distraught story of a mugger that had got away or they had enough familiarity with vampires not to complain about such an officially acceptable story. In the end, they had an officer escort him back to his place, which had felt cramped and dull without her. Knowing that he would never see her again.

He still missed her. It had been partly grief that had allowed Ethan to convince him to help summon Eyghon, that and the faint hope that he would forget, become so lost in the magic that his pain would fade. It hadn't, but that was a whole different story.

In his kitchen, Rupert sighed, remembering Amanda's dancing eyes and total disrespect for authority. "What would it have been like, if that vampire hadn't taken you away from me?"

But he would never know, could never know how things might have been. 'What if?' was a tempting game, but ultimately depressing. She was gone, and he was here. Those were the facts. Nothing could change that. Right?

End Stolen Moments.


	2. Friends Who Are Dear To Us

author: Lucinda

rating: pg13?

main characters: Rupert Giles and Amanda

disclaimer: Giles (and anyone else recognizable from BtVS) is the creation of Joss Whedon & his writers. Amanda is the creation of the Highlander the Series writing staff. Panzer/Davis owns the publication rights.

distribution: Twisting, Mental Wanderings

notes: Pairing #77 for Twisting's holiday FfA. Set roughly in season 4 BtVS (The kids have graduated, the HS was blown up) and having no other connection to the series timeline. Semi-sequel to 'Stolen Moments'

Amanda could feel her muscles burning as she tried to outrun the men chasing her. She'd simply decided to liberate something from the local museum as a Christmas present to herself, and had the unfortunate luck to time her efforts for the same night as some large, brawny looking characters had also been liberating something. But while she'd gone after this lovely emerald and pearl necklace, they were going after some weird, crude knife. Or rather, they had been. Now they were going after her.

From the way their faces had changed to yellow eyes and sharp fangs, she was guessing vampires. God, she hated vampires. Amanda had lost track of the times she'd been killed by them, but it was never, ever a good thing. Except, they did have a few weaknesses that she might be able to use to her benefit. Like the thing about houses, for example...

She'd just ran into an apartment complex, with lots of low, linked apartments reminding her of the rows of tenements in London. If they didn't have deadbolts, she might be able to get inside one, and the vampires wouldn't be able to follow her. Whoever lived there might not even be home, and they probably wouldn't be worse than a pack of vampire minions.

Picking one at random, she ran past the somewhat battered pale car, and her hands found the cold metal doorknob. To her delighted surprise, it twisted, and she was able to push it open and fling herself inside the protection of the house. Slamming the door behind her, she tried to catch her breath as she rose to her feet, looking at her impromptu sanctuary.

Several sets of bookshelves were crammed with aged, leather bound tomes. A man stood beside a brown couch, a loaded crossbow pointed at her while wisps of steam rose from a teacup on the table.

Actually, he looked rather familiar.

"Amanda?" Her name was a whisper from his lips, and he stared at her in shock.

She blinked, her mind trying to place the man. She didn't feel the warning buzz of an immortal, so she was probably safe. Unless he was one of those Watchers, especially if he was from that twisted splinter faction that had been hunting them. An image floated to the top of her mind, London, close to twenty years ago, and a delightful young man trying to rebel against his respectable family. "Ripper?"

"I haven't been using that name for a while." His voice was a bit less shocked, but still wary. "You... you were dead. That vampire killed you."

Amanda resisted the urge to shrug and quip that 'she'd got better.' Considering the closeness that they'd had then and her abrupt return tonight, he deserved a few real answers. "It's complicated. I'm not that easy to get rid of. He did kill me, and it hurt. But unless... Well, it wasn't permanent."

"And you don't look any older." The crossbow lowered, and he sank back to the couch. "Care for tea?"

"Tea might be good. Maybe fortified with Scotch if you've got any?" Amanda moved closer, letting herself drop onto the matching brown chair.

There were a few moments as he vanished, presumably into the kitchen, and Amanda tried to figure out how much she could say. He knew, or had remembered, that it had been a vampire killing her that had ended their previous relationship. How much did he know, how much could she tell him? He came back, and she gratefully accepted the warm cup.

"I'm never going to look older." She sipped at the tea, feeling the warmth of the liquid and of the Scotch that he'd added to it. "I'm a bit different than other women that you might have met."

"How? You aren't a vampire, or you wouldn't have been able to enter the apartment." He looked thoughtful, and winced. "Are you human?"

Amanda felt herself shiver at his question, and tried to cover by sipping again from her cup. "We seem to be. There's only a few differences, and only one's ever apparent before our first death. Immortals... we can't have children."

"Your first death?" He looked curious and a bit disturbed. "That sounds... You were already what you are before we met?"

Amanda nodded, and took another sip. "It's something that most try to keep a secret. We're different, and different isn't always a safe thing."

"You said 'we', which implies that you aren't the only one like yourself. Immortals? That sounds almost familiar..." He shook his head, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Perhaps you could explain a bit more?"

"We seem perfectly normal until our first death. It can be anything, illness, injury, drowning... And then you wake up, and it doesn't make sense, and if you're lucky, there's someone nearby who can explain instead of just killing you. After the first death, we never get older. We don't get sick as easily, but I still had a miserable cold last month. We heal a bit faster, and can recover from broken necks." Amanda shuddered, her hand touching the place where her neck met her shoulder. "And from vampire bites."

"Perfectly normal... Does that mean that there's no set pattern for an Immortal? No particular distinguishing features?" He looked like he was trying to gather information as a way to keep from thinking over the emotional impact.

"An Immortal could be anyone. Men or women, and sometimes the person's first death is when they're still a child..." Amanda blinked back tears as she remembered Kenny, and spoke no more about that. "I've encountered Immortals from all over Europe, from Asia and Africa, and some born here in America. Some other Immortals that I've met encountered some who were Native Americans. Apparently, we occur across all ethnic and sexual distributions. Randomly."

"So there would be considerable variation in motivations and behaviors." He nodded as if to himself, and looked up. "Just like any other people."

"Precisely." Amanda tried to smile, uncertain how natural the expression would look. "It's quite the coincidence that this was your apartment that I dove into."

"Which reminds me... Why did you leap into my home?" He asked, one eyebrow lifting just a little.

"Vampires." She sighed, and shifted her weight, feeling the shape of the necklace still in her pocket. "I didn't want them to catch me. I'd probably have either survived or woke up again later, but I don't like pain."

Rupert nodded, and sighed. "Pain has never been something that I enjoyed either, though I've become quite well acquainted. Would it be rude to ask how old you... Yes, that would be rude. Had you been Immortal for a considerable time before we met?"

Amanda smiled, slightly amused by his curiosity warring with manners. "Yes, I have been. I won't say what they are, but my age is in three digits. Now, why are you taking this so calmly?"

"This is far from the first time that I've encountered things that most people don't want to believe in. In your years, have you heard mention of someone called the Slayer?" His expression made it clear that he didn't think a blunt answer would work, and he'd have to work his way to it.

Amanda nodded, now feeling rather curious. "Oh yes, but never with much detail. Something about a woman hunting vampires and demons with a particularly nice sword. I thought maybe she was a particularly brave Immortal, but I've been assured otherwise. I just don't know what she is then."

"I can clear that up. There is always a Slayer, so it's actually a series of girls and women." He smiled, and put down the tea. "There's a group of people, scholars and warriors, who call themselves Watchers. It is the duty of the Watchers to locate and train girls who have the potential to become Slayers, so that if they are Called, they are ready to fight against the vampires and demons. Against the forces of darkness."

"Watchers?" Amanda blinked, wondering if there was a connection between these Slayer-Watchers and the Council of Watchers that followed Immortals. "How do they know who might become a Slayer?"

"Honestly, I'm a bit unclear on that. I focused more on the fighting and demon identification aspects." He shook his head. "Actually, that was partly a reaction to your death."

"I'm sorry." Amanda blinked, shaking her head as she realized that she'd just apologized for getting killed. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I never blamed you. It was the vampire who killed you, and we did manage to hunt him down and kill him for it." He reached over, hand hovering for a moment over a pair of wire framed glasses before instead lifting the teacup again. "When one Slayer dies, another is Chosen. By some mystical force that I don't think anybody has identified, if you're curious."

"So they've sent you away from England to California, because there might be some girl who has a chance for a terrible destiny when someone else dies?" Amanda blinked, remembering the handful of demons and the vampires that she'd encountered. "Those things are horrible."

"Rather." He shuddered, his eyes darkening with what had to be his own unpleasant memories. "Some Watchers try to take out what demons and vampires they can, even if they don't have a Slayer. Of course, I always thought part of the reason I was sent so far away was because Quentin ended up in charge, and we never did get along."

"Quentin? You can't possibly mean Quentin Travers? That rules-bound inept idiot?" Amanda sputtered.

Rupert just nodded. "I don't visit home very often."

"It's always hard to stay away from home, even when things have changed so much." She sighed, and swirled the liquid in her cup slightly. "London was my home too."

"So, neither of us can be home for the holidays." He put his cup down, and looked at her, with a small smile. "Perhaps we can spend them together? We never got the chance, before."

"I think I'd enjoy that." Amanda leaned back in the chair, her feet curling under her. "Of course, if I recall correctly, most of these apartments only have one bedroom."

He blinked, and looked a little flustered, almost awkward. "That is true. I only have one bedroom, though there is a queen sized bed in it."

"That should be plenty of room for both of us." Amanda purred, smiling at her old lover. "Besides, you might have picked up a few new tricks over the last few years. And if not, maybe I could show you a few."

His smile was pure Ripper as he invited, "Well, why don't we get you settled in for a while then?"

end Friends Who are Dear to Us.


End file.
